


Scarlet Severance

by GeneralLoki



Category: BlazBlue
Genre: Bad end, Blood and Gore, Completed, Gen, Tension, central fiction, mostly tension, unhinged!Hibiki, unresolved issues of CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6867364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralLoki/pseuds/GeneralLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hibiki’s every day is the same–existing in a void of repetition–until he crosses with a strange man in his own halls. What is this sensation he can’t shake? A tension takes hold of him that only grows worse as unknown actors move to try and take Kagura's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bloom

An oppressive feeling hovered through the room like a thick lazy cloud; congealing around the windows and pooling over the bed. He could almost hear the splatter of each dripping second it remained overhead. A sharp breath. Two hard blinks. There was nothing visible in the room he'd not left there the night before. 

The earliest hints of daylight cracked through dark heavy curtains, navy. Hibiki pushed himself out of bed and strode over—parting the curtains to a sight of dusty orange and burnt red starting to peer over the horizon in the piece he could see between buildings and walls—brick and stone. Nothing really filled his mind—the cloud of the night already forgotten. Like all things, they passed and he carried on. He dressed and cleaned up well, thoughts starting to wander ahead of himself, but he reeled them back. He could worry about the colonel later. Right now was his very brief time to himself for the day. Best to keep it held close. The rest of the NOL branch would be stirring very soon. 

Hibiki kept himself centered with focus on smaller things—one at a time. The particular call of a bird outside, the sound of water boiling, tea pouring, hot steam, gloves pressed, pulled on carefully. No voices. It was the kind of sensation and quiet he could empty out into. Nights were long, days longer, but a quiet morning was fleeting. It would be gone in a moment and with a quick, but ultimately unnecessary check of his watch Hibiki knew it was over. He would have to prod the beast from its rest soon. 

Before leaving his small room he took one last look in the mirror. The eyes that peered back at him were his—sharper, brighter than they were when he first woke up. He fixed a stray hair—nothing too vain. His tie was straight, uniform in order, nothing out of place. And yet his face still looked back at him. He had to wrench away, physically, mentally, to get himself back on track. A whole day laid before him and plenty more to follow.

With a few sure steps, Hibiki started for the office he needed. Those moments of introspection into nothing passed and didn't cross his mind. Empty tiled hallways swirled together in his path and yet an eagle eyed focus kept him on track. An absent mind would let it blur together—empty and absent worked differently for him. Absent wouldn't have noticed footsteps headed to meet him down the hall or prepared him for any of the worst. Years of training kept Hibiki so close to the edge all the time that he never really came down off it. Calm, cool, and collected felt internally more like a spoon stirring mechanically in a tea cup constantly—not a single grain should be left unmixed, undissolved, but nothing ever settled either. 

Encroaching footsteps held Hibiki's attention and when they joined him—turned from around a corner—he didn't relax but it was a face he recognized (and remembered, he didn't forget names or faces or rank). He bowed his head slightly, respectfully at the passerby, trading greetings as needed but hurrying along his way. The sun was already pouring in full through a wall of windows, warming the tiles cooled by night. Hibiki paused in the light, listening to the steps as they grew farther. One deep breath, eyes closed. 

Surely nothing would be worse than any other day. 

He made way directly for Kagura's office this time—no more distractions or stalling. When he reached the door he grasped the handle carefully—listening for noise within. He could tell there was at least one body inside—never a good sign. He turned the knob—unlocked. Hibiki didn't want to do it, but he let himself in, closing the door quickly once he was safely inside. Bracing for the worst he looked the room over. He locked the door behind his back. They might need a little time. 

Kagura's office was a mess of bottles and trashed from clear roughhousing the night before. The colonel in question remained stuck in his chair, body half slung over his desk like he'd passed out there. He likely did. The first order of business would be the lingering smell over the room—booze, heat. 

Hibiki strode over to the windows and threw the curtains aside, the glass of the windows shoved out of the way next. The combination of light and cool morning air was enough to stir the man at his desk, groaning and muttering, something that sounded like Hibiki's name but maybe not quite. 

The captain moved to pick up bottles here and there, grasped between gloved fingers and tossed noisily into the bin near Kagura's desk. He picked that one specifically to keep the colonel from getting comfortable again. 

“Hibiki...come on...”

Hibiki ignored him, instead carrying on with his business until the glass and garbage was clear. By that time Kagura seemed a bit more able, eyes dark but he'd lifted his head a least. There was nothing more pathetic than this sight—again. It'd only been a week since the last time. Hibiki stood at attention in front of Kagura's desk like he'd been summoned there and not let himself in. 

“Colonel Kagura, I'd like to advise you of your schedule for today. One I'm sure you're aware of, but allow me to follow procedure considering your.......state.” 

Kagura groaned and sat up a little. He leaned over and rummaged in one of his desk drawers pulling up another bottle. He'd gotten the cap off and nearly took it in his mouth before Hibiki yanked it away. A quick smell of it left him surprised. He put the bottle of water in the colonel's hand and situated his arm like he'd never moved it. Kagura glared for another moment before simply drinking uninterrupted this time. 

“As I was starting to say, we should be seeing some visitors from another branch to check in on processes and specifically to see you, Colonel. I would recommend freshening up before this evening when we expect them. They'll be looking for someone in charge, not a corpse,” Hibiki carried on uninvited. That was probably going to be enough to get Kagura off his ass for the day. At this point if he didn't get up and do as told Hibiki would have to drag his hungover body to his own damn room and do all the work for him. And that was really his cut off point. He served Kagura to a point—that one. 

The silence that filled the room after his speech left Hibiki feeling a little emptier. Any kind of reaction would have been better than the same stare he'd been getting. Hibiki hadn't done anything different than usual and this wasn't an out of the ordinary occurrence for them. It was far more rare for Hibiki to bump into Kagura while he was in the middle of drinking—sometimes so drunk he said delirious things he never expected, left himself so wide open. 

“What a face,” he'd say when Hibiki had dragged him to his room once, “Prettier than the girls last night, you know that?” Hibiki ignored him—Kagura was drunk as hell, stupid, turned to compliments when the rest of his language facilities failed him. What bothered Hibiki more was how much Kagura weighed with his arm slung over his shoulders, pulling him ungracefully to his room and dropping him in his bed. Verbally, Kagura argued, but physically he let Hibiki lead. He'd left himself so open, so easily taken advantage of. If Hibiki were anyone else. Anyone at all surely could have quietly taken care of him. 

“Hey Hibiki,” Kagura started, snapping Hibiki out of his thoughts. It took him long enough. The two exchanged looks for a second before he continued. “You don't have to do this so rough...I'll get up.” 

“I'm not going to go easy on you after you spent your night this way. This is for your own good,” Hibiki answered immediately, no hesitation. “One day you might learn and finally stop.” 

Kagura's expression soured more and he took a break for more water. “So young and no fun...” he muttered after. 

Hibiki's head tipped back slightly, glaring down his nose at Kagura seated at his desk. From here he could at least do this much. “I am here at your service and yet you would complain...You and your operation are running smoothly because of the people around you. Pulling together at the last minute and managing in a crisis is worthy of some respect, but the rest of the time you put it on everyone else to see to you.” 

Unexpectedly Kagura gave Hibiki a crooked grin and a wink. “And I gotta say, you're doing excellently. What would I do without you, Hibiki? My best man...!” It was clearly a strain considering sounds and thinking probably hurt Kagura at this point. 

Hibiki stopped short of rolling his eyes. He found his patience again, forcing a smile back at him. “Colonel Mutsuki, perhaps the next time you have this thought, perhaps when you're less hungover, you can consider giving me a break. Servant or no, you've kept me busy as of late.” 

Kagura muttered an “ouch” and sighed. “Alright, alright. When all this mess passes, you get a vacation or something. Okay?” 

The captain said nothing at first; expression serious as he considered the offer. Where would he go, what would he even do? His thoughts clouded over, heavy and familiar with sensations not distant to sleep. He straightened himself up, one hand clasped close to his body as he gave a slight bow Kagura's way. “I'll consider your offer. For the time being, there are other matters I need to attend to.”

“Of course,” Kagura answered casually. He felt Kagura's eyes following him as he excused himself—door unlocked, open, closed—and stood outside. He let out a deep sigh. He went through everything as necessary this morning and yet it left him in this state. Maybe there was just no getting used to serving such a person as Kagura. Not that Hibiki was ever surprised. Just minutely disappointed a little more each time. 

That lingering sensation of something being off followed him through the day and into his other tasks. As busy as he was, Hibiki couldn't shake the feeling that he had something incorrect or missed something important. It left him a hollow ache that was both familiar and tormenting. His thoughts seemed so idle, so based in what he had his hands in at that very second. Was there nothing beyond this very moment? It remained steady, even as he walked down the hall to check in with Kagura one last time near the expected arrival of the other officers. 

All his senses spiked, a chill ran up his spine and he braced himself for a fight. 

He'd been caught in an otherwise empty hall—no sense of anyone behind the doors on the right or outside the windows three floors down on the left. And yet Hibiki felt frozen. The person before Hibiki telegraphed their moves—he stepped with no hint of hiding his footsteps—noisy, clear, heel to tile—or his presence in terms of strength. It felt obscured, hidden away but obvious briefly to Hibiki when they stood at one end of the hall and Hibiki trapped in the middle. And yet he'd not sensed this man until he turned the corner and their sights locked. 

Seen clearly, the man was wearing familiar colors—“corrosive jet black”—to the NOL, clearly marking him as another officer but something out him felt off. Had they met? No, Hibiki would remember his name. 

The other officer approached casually—almost too casually. He stopped a few paces shy of Hibiki, his hand drifting up to his hat to adjust it on his head.

“My oh my, I don't believe we've had a chance to meet, but I've heard so much about you,” the official said, his eyes obscured, but flashed a hint of gold. “You must be Captain Hibiki Kohaku. What a pleasure.”

Hibiki straightened himself up and bowed his head slightly. “I would tell you the same...if I knew your name...” 

“Ah of course. Where are my manners? Captain Hazama, with Intelligence. Truly, I am pleased to meet you.” 

Hibiki's discomfort with this man didn't fade, it muddled, swirled around in the air. It felt heavy on his chest. He didn't think he was lying and yet what else could that feeling be? 

“A pleasure then, captain. I suppose you are one of our visitors for today...?” 

Hazama smiled a little wider, his stance shifting slightly. It put Hibiki further on edge—nearly tipping over. “I would be. Nothing would slip by you, would it? I understand you're Kagura's right hand...and his left too on a bad day.” 

By now, something like this was practiced, Hibiki knew his script. “I'm not sure how such a rumor reached another post, but I can tell you I am only a loyal captain to Colonel Mutsuki. He is an impressive and important individual in his own right. I wouldn't serve him otherwise.” 

Hazama kept on a smile, a quirk in his lips kept Hibiki on guard. Was this man honestly going to try and grill him? Why hadn't he heard much of anything about this man? The name felt so familiar like it was on the tip of his tongue. Not everyone in Intel was this tense to be around. 

“Is that right? I must say, that's quite the reply. You must have so much faith in the colonel.” 

“I do.” 

“Unyielding even...My...That is some faith. You answer quickly too. The colonel is lucky to have someone like you, Captain Hibiki...Just imagine where he'd be without someone like yourself,” Hazama's voice coaxed. 

He would be dead.

The thought was struck from Hibiki's mind immediately. Kagura might be a fool, but he was powerful. Terribly powerful in his own right. Kagura could have probably easily killed him when it struck him to do so. Did it? The dissonance vibrated through his skull. He braced himself. 

Hazama looked down Hibiki's way; his eyes open in thin slits—boring through his skin with a golden gaze, unyielding. “I'm sure that's quite a lot to consider. I mean we can hardly imagine a day going by without the dear colonel as he is. Could you see such a thing? No Colonel Mutsuki? What a scene...” 

Hibiki's mind wandered in flashes, the look this morning, that time by nightfall, dragged to his room, completely pathetic, the mornings he relaxed and simply chattered, guard down. Guard completely down. Hibiki clenched one fist at his side. His fingers could remember the way his blades felt clasped in his hands, meeting resistance, minor resistance he could cut through. Grind against bone. A sick spattering of blood. Internal made external, fresh gore. He could cut through anything.

Hazama didn't seem to notice Hibiki's silence, carrying on instead like he'd been answered. A speech habit he was well acquainted with. “But from what I understand is you're close, you two. Hardly separable. A little shadow to a very big man...I wonder how grand he is, in the end. We'll have to see how time treats you two...I will be watching, Captain Hibiki Kohaku,” Hazama said. The depth of his gaze lessened and he turned away from Hibiki—some of the tension in the air following him. 

Hibiki lips pried apart before Hazama took more than two steps. “The colonel is without issue. We will continue here...doing our best for the people we serve,” Hibiki said firmly, his body remembering the words for him. 

Over his shoulder Hazama gave him a smile. “Without a doubt, I know you will, Captain. As incredible as I expected. Keep thinking though, hm?” With that said Hazama turned back the way he'd come from—like his errand took him to Hibiki and only Hibiki. 

The smaller captain remained in place for a few minutes, his mind scrambling to get back in order. What was he just thinking then? It felt closer to the surface but instinctively he pushed it away. It didn't feel right. It had to be away for a reason—surely there was a reason for this feeling—discomfort, heaviness. His body felt pushed down, even that he put one hand to the wall and took a few deeper breaths. The thought and feeling passed and he could stand properly again, as hollow as ever. It left him loose, his body always at any second ready to twist and change to whatever stance he might need to protect Kagura. Whatever he needed to do for Kagura's sake. On his orders. At his word. Over his body. 

Hibiki forced himself out of his own thoughts, violently thrusting himself into the moment. A few seconds passed in the hallway. He heard footsteps from either direction—NOL grade equipment, typical boots in the force, clattering keys, the slosh of some liquid. Around the corner they come, some base officers getting tea to their comrades working down at the other end. Hibiki nodded to them and stepped out of the way. He listened to them passing by and added his own footwork to their—heel-toe to tile, a familiar tapping. 

Someone wound a key in Hibiki's back—a clockwork grinding twist, one hand's motion at a time—a turn of the wrist and another rotation. It felt like a spring tightening in his core—wires rubbing hard against each other, pulling in as much as the tension would allow them. All of it threatened to release out of each limb, sending him off in every direction and his purpose pouring out of his mouth in sick mechanical motions. How long could someone keep wound up this like, he asked himself.


	2. I'm Shaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrupted sleep leads Hibiki to more thoughts of the strange captain; the one he seems fated to meet as an important mission from Kagura leads them to cross once more.

He felt hot, feverish, the familiar of sensation of sweat beading over his body, clothes almost sticky. His tie must have been strangling him. Fingers clawed at his throat, trying to get it loose. A dramatic pull and he was free, throat open, freshly covered in desperate red stripes from his soaked gloves. He looked down. Red gloves, stained red, normally white. The coat hanging around his shoulders was spattered in crimson too, his shirt underneath, his pants down to his shoes. He felt it in his hair, across his skin, mingling with sweat. The coppery familiar smell hit him across the cheek—hard, a forced hand of reality. 

Hibiki snapped awake, sitting up in bed, still feeling just as feverish. The edge of a memory. How distant it was, Hibiki couldn't recall. When was the last time he was sent out for dirty work? The last time he did any? 

Anything for the name Mutsuki after all. 

He took an extra few minutes to collect himself. Everything was still attached to his body, nothing bloody or changed. He reached over to the nightstand and checked his watch. 

3:12am.

He slunk back into bed, body feeling unwelcome there. It felt too warm, too strange to just lay back down. After a moment of struggle, Hibiki eased his way out from under blankets, standing with his arms loose at his sides by the bed. The only people up would be the last watch of the night. It wasn't business that needed his attention either.

Still, the visitors from the other NOL branch were still in town. That meant that Hazama man was likely still around. He hadn't had a chance to ask Kagura about him. He wasn't sure he wanted to. If they hadn't discussed him already, he was maybe no one. Or someone they needed to keep tabs on now. It wouldn't hurt to do some digging on him perhaps. With that as a goal and reason to be up Hibiki set himself to getting cleaned up as he always did for work. He spent a few extra minutes in the shower. That dream, that memory still clung to his skin no matter how much water and steam he stood under. 

Flesh still crawling, he dressed in the uniform he usually wore around the office; doing his best to look professional and ready. He skipped brewing tea or bothering with anything else. He was awake enough—this would be fine. Training gave him higher stamina, practice with sleeping little. He would at least have more grace with this than Kagura had hungover. 

He tried to put Kagura far out of his mind. It seemed like a wise choice. If he were in trouble the records hall wasn't too far away. It wasn't like pulling Hazama's file would take all night anyway. He would be fine. He was no dog—he would not sleep at the foot of Kagura's bed like this were some kind of emergency. Even in emergency...

Leaned up against his door, back pressed to the wood to feel for even the slightly disturbance in the walls. His ears sharp, mind completely focused on the area around them. Kagura's breathing—just barely audible. Slow breaths, sleeping likely. His hands clenched around his blades, firm, too firm, to keep him awake. An ache to do something unspoken. Why would that memory come back so vividly? Why did it piss him off so much?

He picked up his pace in leaving, pace quick toward the area of the library he needed. The halls were eerie at this hour—darkened and lit sporadically by small bulbs in key spots and by moonlight through occasional windows otherwise. His presence felt unwelcome when it looked this way. Part of him dreaded running into any night watch. He wasn't really hiding himself, but he didn't make excessive noise either. 

Hibiki managed to reach the room in question untouched. He keyed it open and closed the door quietly as his back. Once he was sure the coast was clear he moved inward toward the files on various NOL service members. If he was really a captain, they had to have something on him. Even down to the lowest worker they had to have something. Hibiki took up a light to point in the files as he drew them out one shelf out at a time. Hazama hadn't given him a last name, but that was fine. He'd narrowed him down to Intelligence; that was enough.

He found the collection of who worked in that position, flipping through name after name. 

There was no Hazama.

He went through it again, looking any captains or the name Hazama at all but none of them matched the man he'd met in the hall. 

Hibiki paused in his work, hands dropping a file noisily back into the shelf. Fingers twitched, shaking slightly. He'd not seen Hazama again with the other group looking around. A question bit at the side of his mind. 

Had Hazama been real at all? 

His breath caught in his throat and he backed off the files, flashlight dropped unceremoniously on the closest desk—light pointed to cast a flickering, yellow circle on the opposite wall. Two breaths, deeply, calmly. He needed to pull his thoughts back to the ground. Hazama stood in front of him, conversed like someone external. He had to exist because that feeling he carried with him. 

Satisfied that he'd worked out that problem, Hibiki turned to the question it left in his wake. Who was Hazama if he didn't exist in the record? Maybe he was simply misplaced somewhere. That seemed more reasonable somehow. Hibiki picked the flashlight back up steadily and took to another group of files. He could go through methodically one at a time until Hazama was found. 

When Hibiki finished going through every file in the room he was left empty handed. Nothing on anyone named Hazama at all. It had to be some kind of mistake—maybe the file was on Kagura's desk. He must have seen him at some point; maybe he was curious. Convinced of this he packed everything up and started that way once he'd locked the door behind himself. The answer felt so obvious, it consumed almost every other consideration except time.

He pulled his pocket watch loose of its home in his coat.

4:45am. 

No one would bother him at this hour and Kagura would be too worn out from the night before to be partying away in his office. He could check it, be settled, and relax for a moment. 

He keyed open Kagura's office once he reached it, closing the door behind himself and going to the desk—lit by moonlight alone for the moment. Even that was starting to fall and the sun would rise. He didn't need long however. The desk wasn't in too much disarray. It made it easy enough for Hibiki to thumb through the papers on top, hunting for the captain's name or anything. 

A rattle at the door stopped him—one another person less braced might have missed. Hibiki prepared to defend himself, but was instead met with a face he knew too well. Kagura stepped the rest of the way into the office, shutting the door behind himself. He looked half asleep, barely dressed enough to even step out. He'd been sleeping in the room next door, hadn't he? 

“Hibiki...? What the hell are you doing up at this hour...? And digging in my stuff...?” 

Hibiki straightened up, his head bowed. “I'm afraid a file's gone missing. This was the last possible place it could be.”

“At 5 in the morning?” Kagura pressed.

Hibiki checked his watch. “4:50am.” 

Kagura only looked more exhausted at those words. “Are you always up at this hour?” 

The pause in his answer was only a short one. “Not always, but sometimes, yes. I've told you, the people around you do plenty of work for you.” 

“Doesn't mean you need to let yourself in here and start working this early. Seriously Hibiki. Get some rest.” 

Hibiki shook his head. “It's already too late to go back to bed. I'd rather continue what I was doing.” 

“So sleep in for once. You have my permission.” 

For a long moment Hibiki only stared over at Kagura, unsure what to do with that. “Whether I do or don't is up to me and I don't intend to do so.” 

Kagura let out a heavy sigh, leaning harder against the door. It was at that moment that Hibiki recognized who had control of the room. Kagura was tired, but conscious enough to make that move. He was well aware of his own control. Kagura yawned and shrugged one shoulder. “You're tense all the time. You're wearing me out. Just do this for once.” 

Hibiki tensed up more than usual at that, his look turning more seriously Kagura's way. The colonel didn't seem to care about the glare he was getting. “You're worn out from drinking and sleeping around all the time. That has nothing to do with me.” 

The colonel took a turn at being serious for once, one eyebrow quirked up. “This isn't about my personal life here. It's you, Hibiki. You're more wound up than usual. You need to chill out.” 

“There's nothing wrong with me, if that's your implication,” Hibiki answered immediately, too dryly to be mistaken for being defensive. 

“You're working at 5 in the morning, in my office worrying about one file. If it's gone, file a report that somebody misplaced it. It'll turn up. But if it's gone, whatever. Deal with it later. Focus on something more important.”

All of that sounded grating to Hibiki's ears, but he sat through it dutifully. His voice shifted upon reply, more plain with his question. “What would you have me focus on, sir?” 

The area around them rested in a quiet unease. Hibiki couldn't hear anything outside—it was too early and too dark for even the birds. He felt his body sinking through the floor. He wanted to focus on anything besides Kagura and the thought over his features. His hand rested at his chin, as if to signal he were thinking for once. 

“Focus on protecting me then. Things have been weird lately and you're a pretty good bodyguard,” Kagura said after a lot of deliberating.

“You don't really require my services for that. You're capable of protecting yourself,” Hibiki answered flatly. “If you didn't stand around with your guard down all the time you'd have no issue. You're the head of the Mutsuki family and in charge of this fortification. Try acting like it.” 

Kagura glanced aside, eyes stuck on the wall for a moment before he pulled it together; his gaze returning to Hibiki, a grin set crookedly at his lips. “Cold as always, Hibiki. Someone's gotta tell me no, I guess. Not that I wanna hear it. But look. This is gonna be an order now: Get a couple hours of rest, meet me back here. Got it?” 

Hibiki gave him a colder look—if it were at all possible. He almost saw the colonel shiver. He didn't just imagine that, did he? 

“Understood...” 

Kagura perked back up at that, giving him a pleased hum of approval. “There you go. Much better. Here, I'll even let you out.” He pushed himself off the door and held it open, gesturing out with one arm. Hibiki felt his stomach turn over but he stepped briskly through the door and did as he was told. He lingered in the hall as Kagura locked the door up for them. He felt the colonel's eyes on his back. 

“See you later, Hibiki. I mean seriously later. Don't wake me up again.” 

“My apologies, sir.” 

Pushed by Kagura's gaze, Hibiki headed back toward his own quarters not far down the hall. He listened out for Kagura returning to his room, but he didn't, not until Hibiki got his own door open. He was taking this more seriously than Hibiki expected for him. Any sort of seriousness out of Kagura was a surprise anyway. Once inside his own quarters again Hibiki took a few deeper breaths. He tried to convince himself he was tired but it wasn't doing much for him. Usually he'd wake in about an hour anyway. 

His eyes wandered over the sparse decoration of his room—just enough to convince someone that a person lived here—nothing more. The desk was populated only by a few books on history or law, empty envelopes and Hibiki's letter sealing materials. It looked almost too neat. If anyone saw this space they might recognize it as Hibiki's, but only if they knew him. And among those around him, he could really only say perhaps Kagura knew him. The rest knew of him. A distinct difference. Even at that point, Hibiki knew more of those around him and those in that vicinity would be aware of him, perhaps at their best. It was always an unequal exchange. There would be no meeting Hibiki on level footing—only as a complete stranger perhaps and even then Hibiki didn't step out much or deal often with those outside of the NOL and Kagura's immediate interests. 

Except Hazama. How did Hazama know so much more of him? He, who was a near invisible aid at Kagura's side. He would do the work, but leave it in Kagura's name. He shouldn't have much of a trail or presence and yet Hazama knew. Then again, the man claimed to be with Intel. He could be connected to an entirely different network—or even more dangerously, the very same one. Was Hazama someone else's shadow? If they were alike perhaps that is why he was difficult to find. Another family of assassins then? Did he serve one of the other Duodecim or someone else? Putting it together in questions like this made it a little easier for Hibiki to grasp. Thinking like this he could dig into. He'd find out. 

Still riddled with questions, but feeling a little more free to explore them, Hibiki paced his room a few times over. It had been long enough. He peeked out silently to make sure Kagura didn't hang around in the hall. With the coast clear, he continued stealthily from his room up the stairs to the roof. It didn't hurt to practice moving in absolute quiet. He couldn't startle any of the guard if they never saw him. Hibiki made it up to the roof of the branch office, relaxing once he reached the edge. The sun was just starting to peek over the hills—bleeding orange and gold over the first lucky reaches of the land before creeping to soak further. Cool night wind still struck Hibiki's face, brushing his hair back and leaving him feeling chilled but refreshed. Gloved hands clasped the railing to help balance him against a small desire to fall back and crash. For a moment it felt like he'd simply pass through the floors and fall through right back into bed—regardless of reality. 

He wished he'd brought some coffee with him—the heat might keep him in the moment. He settled for drawing his pocket watch from his coat, opening the case in his hands and eying the seconds ticking by briefly. It kept him grounded. Thoughts remained in the moment—observations that kept his senses busy in an almost relaxing sort of way. It was easier than fretting over everything that awaited him below. He glanced to the clock once more.

7:30am. 

A much more reasonable hour finally. Making good on his desire earlier, Hibiki went downstairs and toward the kitchens to get himself fresh coffee—sitting in the sparsely populated mess hall just to listen to the murmuring of voices and clatter of dishware for a change of pace. Bits and pieces of conversation stuck to his mind as it often did, but for once it wasn't too bothersome. The same as always, in a way. He could use something a little more along his normal after the last few hours. He felt like maybe this was a much better mood to be in. 

Moved by this little tick up in his state that he went out of his way to press some especially good coffee for Kagura at 7:55am, so that he could be right at Kagura's office at 8:00am—hot coffee balanced perfectly on the tray in his hands. He opened the door himself after knocking, tray shifted to one hand. Kagura was at his desk, just starting to shuffle through his paperwork for the day—pausing upon seeing Hibiki. There was a reason people often mistook Hibiki as just Kagura's secretary. It was mostly the mornings like these were he saw to his master's needs like this. It was a cover that worked for the both of them.

It took a second, but just a hint of gratitude showed in Kagura's face and voice. “I was just thinking about that. Damn, that's some good timing, Hibiki.” 

“You're supposed to be ready to take meetings at 7:15am, but you're typically 45 minutes to an hour late so I prepared with that in mind,” Hibiki answered simply, setting the tray on a smaller table nearby to pour out a cup properly for Kagura. Cup neatly resting in a matching dish, he could responsibly serve the coffee out on Kagura's desk. The colonel didn't exactly care for the extra fanfare or neatness that Hibiki took, but he was also used to it to the point of expecting it. A fool or not, he was still one of the Duodecim. He had a certain forced affinity with the decadence and lavish lifestyle usually conflated with the position. It wasn't untrue the two came together. Hibiki merely helped keep up the few remnants of that look that could be scaffolded around Kagura.

Kagura gave Hibiki a look through the whole process but did wait until he had his coffee to complain. He didn't really want to miss out on it. “...Always right on the dot...Well, thanks either way I guess.” He paused to take a small sip. The temperature was just right and the taste better. Hibiki did have a way in the kitchen. 

“How'd you sleep?” Kagura asked casually, his gaze down on the few papers he'd gotten spread out. It was a pointed question that implied others, but he knew well enough to ask it this way. Hibiki couldn't escape that way. Not easily.

“I rested, as you insisted. It was fruitful,” Hibiki replied honestly enough. It was a restful activity in its own way. He remained standing across the large desk from Kagura, his gaze on him even if Kagura wasn't looking directly back. 

Kagura sipped further on his coffee, flipping through a few more pages. “I hope so. I have something I want to entrust to you.” 

Hibiki straightened up slightly, arm tucked a little closer to his side. That was unexpected. “Has something come up?”

“Something's definitely come up. You know how this morning I said things have been weird?”

“Certainly. We aren't exactly in the business of making friends with the rest of the NOL. They're watching us all the time. It's always weird...But I imagine this is in regard to that business.” 

Kagura looked up, leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Yeah. Number one business right now, it seems. Which makes it hard as hell to make any moves. But basically, I'm getting reports that someone might be trying to cut me out of the picture.”

Hibiki raised an eyebrow. “You're the leader of the Duodecim. You cannot just be cut out. You mean they intend to kill you.” 

Kagura shrugged lazily, picking up his coffee again, cup stalled short of his lips. “Yeah, that's kind of what we're getting. Scouts reported some less than savory folks lurking near HQ too. It's only a matter of time before somebody breaks in or they get someone on the inside that's capable.”

Hibiki's thoughts froze for a moment, muddling around in his head. It just didn't seem possible. No one could just up and kill Kagura with tactics like this. He was powerful—terribly powerful. And yet Hibiki's mind snapped back to every time the colonel left himself open. Someone could learn those short moments and so easily take advantage of them...

“So you'd like me to track the source and stop it?” Hibiki asked firmly.

“That'd be great. If you can capture one, great. I imagine that low on the chain they won't know much, but even a hint would be pretty good,” Kagura answered like he was asking for a small favor, not full counter-assassination plans. 

“I'll scour for location today and make a move tonight. The sooner this is done the better,” Hibiki decided shortly. He didn't need to consider his options for long. It would be settled before Kagura could sleep for the night. “Please do me a favor and stay away from alcohol until I have this settled. If they break in on you wasted, your death is your own fault.” 

“Hey, I'll have you know I'm a real beast when I'm a little inebriated.” Kagura argued right away. He looked ready to dig up something alcoholic and dump it in his coffee to prove a point.

“Yes, as you've told me and every woman you've failed to please too. But frankly, in a fight you're greatly held back. I don't care how stressed out you are—you face it. Besides, I'll have this on its way out tonight. I asked you for almost nothing,” Hibiki shot right back, a cold look in his eyes. 

Kagura glanced to the windows then back down to his coffee. “Fine, fine. Just for tonight, I'll stay out of it.” 

“Much better. Then I have a lot of work to do between then and now. I'll be sure we keep you well guarded with me busy. Do try to stay focused as well.” With that said Hibiki started for the door, only stopping when Kagura said his name.

The look on Kagura's face was surprisingly serious; maybe that was concern on his face. “Don't do anything too risky. If you need back up, you call for it. We still don't know what we're dealing with.”

“I'm aware of my own limits. Better than you are. I'll be cautious—I always am.” 

Appeased with that answer, Kagura rested back. “Alright, it's in your hands, Hibiki. I'm counting on you.”

“As you always do. But I won't fail you.” 

Hibiki opened the door, shut and assured it was locked behind him. Kagura would need to be more careful about who he let in. He would know to watch the windows too—Hibiki had coached him enough times. Kagura used his knowledge for stupid things usually, but perhaps this time now that his life was on the line he'd be more cautious. 

Threats on Kagura weren't new business—it happened every so often, but something about the atmosphere recently made this one feel a little more real. Especially with the suspicious activity on the grounds. Threats rarely made it that close. There was always a chance this was just a cover for someone much closer to take a swing at the colonel from within the NOL—something neither of them ever ruled out. But Kagura could trust Hibiki. The Kohaku family served the Mutuski's directly—Hibiki essentially promised to Kagura from a very young age. Their relationship assured they could survive these sorts of encounters. 

It ensured Kagura survived these sorts of encounters.

Hibiki shook the thought off and pushed on to meet up with the scouts to work out location and a plan of attack for the night. The set up took most of his day so that by 10:00pm he was prepared to go. Where he was going was steady enough—it was the numbers on what he'd be facing that were unclear. Numbers ranged from five or six possible assassins to only two or three. The latter was Hibiki's preference, but with their luck, it would be the former. He ruled their strength within his power to quell. They had been caught milling around HQ—that was enough to peg them of a lower quality than Hibiki himself. But few were up to his standard anyway. Hibiki's skills in stealth and silent kills were difficult to match. He'd trained his whole life for it after all. He was so good that Kagura would have been a real fool to turn him away. They were not a set a blades anyone would desire after them. 

Hibiki spent a few extra minutes in his quarters. He'd changed uniforms—from the usual long coat to a much shorter tunic and outfit that better suited movement. It gave him a place to hitch his sheath for his blades as well—the light weaponry ready at his back. His hand gripped at the handle of one blade in the sheath, testing the reach and feeling of it for the first time in awhile. He'd been playing secretary for so long it seemed. When was the last time he actually took to combat? It seemed like so long in memory, but his body remembered it like it were only minutes ago. His muscles tensed for a moment before he relaxed them. He checked his watch. 

10:02pm.

Time to get to work.

 

Focus on surroundings didn't slow Hibiki much—he'd worked on being able to move in this manner cautiously for far too long to get slowed down by caution. He maneuvered swiftly from alley to street, branch to brush. What he needed to track down was a path way out of town with good tree coverage. It gave the assassins a place to hide out but not too far away. They could camp out there indefinitely if no one caught onto their exact place. Luckily, scouts were well aware of this weakness and kept an eye out on the area for just such a thing. This gave Hibiki a little more to work with in terms of locking down location. Once he did reach the woods he slowed slightly—only because a trail he could follow became clear. They had left some hint of themselves—like amateurs in honesty. 

Hibiki followed the path to a clearing not far from the main road; his thoughts a void as he put his body to work preparing for the worst. They were in the area—this had to be a trap. But one he ultimately needed to spring to get anywhere. Hibiki strode out onto the hill in the moonlight where the path was clear and the trees afforded him no shelter. His cape flapped in the strong wind of the night—the cold biting his cheeks where his collar didn't protect him. His blade rattled slightly when he grasped it—ready to draw once he reached the center. 

The moon felt so bright and close at this height. The grass underfoot was loose and moist—wet with an earlier sprinkle not quite intense enough to inspire any mud. This wasn't ideal but Hibiki could work with it. He caught his breath in his chest, trying to regulate and get himself centered. There stood no room for mistakes regarding whatever would soon jump out. He counted at least five small movements from the surrounding growth, quiet, a rustle or two, almost a breath.

“If you all would be so kind as to join me...I have a few questions,” Hibiki called across the clearing to invite his company out. 

Two seconds, a cloud passed by the moon, a darkened stage set then for six. Hibiki grasped firmer on his sword—not yet drawing. Perhaps they would relent easily as they surrounded him silently at first. They were all dressed in hoods and dark colors. Their affiliation wasn't obvious from their looks, but they were armed to kill in silence. 

“I want to know who sent you and why,” Hibiki said calmly, no mind for being surrounded. “You're after Colonel Mustsuki, aren't you?”

“You'd live longer if you got out of the way,” came one voice from the depths of a dark hood. 

“It's still his servant. Be careful. We want to capture him if we can,” the apparent leader among the group sounded off. He would be target number one, Hibiki decided. 

The sound of knives sliding from their holsters tensed Hibiki. He drew one of his own blades, held tight in his left hand. The edge of the blade settled close near his arm as he took up a ready stance. “Not a single one of you will get to him through me. No one touches him on my watch.” 

As if all agreed upon, Hibiki and the five assassins flew into motion all at once. The moon broke free of the cloud sliding away from in front of it—lighting the field up again as Hibiki jumped up and over the first few swings aimed his way. On his way down he slashed at the back of one of the assassins. A mess of blood loosed over the battlefield, over his blade, across the grass in a reliable streak of red. A cry from the attacked one told Hibiki he had four to face now. 

His feet barely touched the ground before two of the assassins were on him—both thrusting forward with long daggers sharpened down to a slim pointed edge—retracted in and springing forth once they were close. Hibiki used his size to his advantage, ducking back and low to dodge the twin blades. The assassins both pulled back in time to avoid the sweeping strike of Hibiki's blade. Hibiki's free hand rested over his second sword for a moment, freeing it of its sheath shortly so he could wield both for a moment. 

Low to the ground, Hibiki shot forward, blades first, twisting his body slightly on impact to help grind his swords through. With this movement he cut smoothly through one of the assassins. Split from hip to knee, the man cried out in disbelief and pain when he dropped to the dirt. It was too much noise. Hibiki doubled back a second to swipe over his throat to silence him—blood bubbling up through the fresh wound, turning cries to choking, to nothing. The move earned Hibiki a fresh spattering of red across the clean white and blue of his uniform. 

The remaining assassins tensed from their positions various distances from Hibiki. It seemed all of them took a few steps back. Fear dialed up in the air. 

“I should tell you, I won't accept escape. You can surrender or you can die,” Hibiki said coldly, voice mechanical. 

Fear turned quick to desperation. In the glint of the moonlight, just barely visible in the pale yellow, Hibiki to see hints of that emotion pricking at their eyes. These were men who would die on return, it seemed. Failure was no option for them—trapped in a web they put themselves into no doubt. And yet here they were, struggling in the tangle of their own creation—lives on the line. Lives on the line and draining from one servant, as one had so put it. The one still bleeding out heavily from his back cut in deep. That coppery smell hung over the hill like a stagnant pool in the blustering winds of the night. 

Like they wanted to draw out their lives for a little longer, none of the three assassins dared to be the first to move. Not yet. Hibiki adjusted his position, both blades at the ready in his hands, sharp edges still streaked red from the last caresses with skin. Danger sharpened in his eyes, fixed on the nearest target, the rest of his body tuned and aware of his other opponents and those that might still lurk out of sight. 

Their call made, the first of the three—the one at Hibiki's back—jolted forward, throwing a handful of knives aimed between his shoulders. Hibiki twisted one arm at his back, blocking the group with his own blade, looking ready for more. The knives fell uselessly at his feet, dropped heavy in the grass, now ultimately leaving the assassins to make another set of decisions. 

This one came faster—the middle of the three charged forward—this one with a set of chained scythes. He loosed the first one ahead of himself—the blade flying for Hibiki's face. Hibiki felt the wind from the blade as he ducked away from it and shuffled back again to avoid it on the return to its owner's hands. He braced himself for worse following that. The scythe wielder and the assassin with the knives teamed up—the two attacking Hibiki in tandem—knives and scythe blades flying his way together. Hibiki kept his body in motion—watching and sensing for the direction of weapons to keep from being hit. This was going to take a little more to stop. 

On a return trip of the scythe, Hibiki stuck his blade edge out in the way of the chain, catching the scythe on the end of it. This threw off the assassin long enough for Hibiki to jam the blade into the earth and fly into motion. His legs carried him almost instantly to the assassin. His comrades unable to stop Hibiki's flight—one that ended with Hibiki's remaining sword goring through the scythe assassin's midsection. Hibiki cut from the middle outward with a jerk of his arm—blood and matter not immediately spilling from the wound. It was when the assassin fell back that his body fell apart—nearly in two as the necessary filth and organs gushed and red ran free from the wound. He did not last long in any state of consciousness or life. 

Hibiki's eyes flashed once more looking more golden than brown in the moonlight. He struck a dangerous look over this fresh corpse.

“Final offer,” he said shortly. 

The two remaining moved a little further apart, their legs tensed. They were going to run, Hibiki could tell. He started a casual, slow stride to his other blade. Neither of them moved but they looked so ready, so close to try and cut things off here. Like it would be so simple. Hibiki would easily catch up to whichever one was lucky not to be chased first. Leaving in fear would be a sloppy, traceable exit. 

Hibiki grasped his free hand onto the blade in the ground. Just as he was pulling it free they both surprised him. Rather than running they charged him together—one with a pair of long pointed edges in hand, the other with a short, thin blade made to be drawn quickly from his hip. 

They were a little faster than expected but Hibiki didn't abandon the blade in the ground. He yanked it up fast and as they two got close he jumped up faster than they could have possibly followed. Not at that moment. He crashed back down with a blade pointed down for the both of them—effectively slicing through skull, shoulder, arm for the two of them. Their final calls were short and their falls left Hibiki with a fresh coat of red over his clothing. 

On the very second he landed back on the ground, that he'd relaxed even the slightest hair, a movement behind him caught his attention. He spun around to meet a final hiding assassin. He held his blades up in a rush to block, but his swords met with air. The assassin stopped, dead, killed in a flash by something sharp through his chest. It retracted, leaving the assassin to fall in a heap near Hibiki's feet. 

The corpse was no matter however—what killed him was. Hibiki's eyes quickly located the chain that pulled back from the body—edged in a green tint, it was easy to see in this low light. The owner of the chain hopped down from the trees nearby, the chain disappearing into the air as he walked this way.

“My goodness, that was almost a real mess, Captain Kohaku,” the familiar voice said lightly. 

Now that he was closer, Hibiki recognized him—Captain Hazama. His chest tightened, his limbs feeling tense to the point of numbness. Flashes of the hint of strength he'd caught in the hallway simmered over Hazama's form in the moonlight—thin, dark, but obvious with the light pooling behind his form. His coat fluttered outward noisily as Hazama gestured out over the battlefield now littered with bodies. 

“You made quick work of them though. I'm impressed, but it should be expected of Kagura Mutsuki's right hand man after all,” Hazama continued with a smile, not at all bothered by the gore spread out across the field. The small opening of his eyes focused down on Hibiki's form. “You can relax, captain. I don't want to fight with you. I was checking into this little group as well. You just had the fighting so well covered...and I admit, I hate to fight.” 

Hibiki straightened up, at least appearing to relax more than he was before. He knew it wouldn't fool Hazama, but he would at least play along now. 

“What do you know about them?” Hibiki asked flatly. 

Hazama gave Hibiki an odd little grin. “Well I do know they're all very dead. Except for whoever ordered them. And who that is...well, that's still under investigation but I do wonder...Who would send someone after Colonel Mutsuki? Leader of the Duodecim even...That's a dangerous game to play with only grudges, so I imagine...this is something bigger.” 

Hibiki's insides felt rattled. He wasn't sure if it was the fighting, the smell, or Hazama's person in general that left him more unsettled. He took out one harder breath, trying to center himself. He couldn't seem to shake it—this tension in his joints, curved around his fingers. He needed to do something and do it fast. 

“That doesn't really answer my question,” Hibiki said, eyes still sharp and fixed on Hazama. He was too dangerous to get lax around. 

Hazama put one finger to his chin, humming thoughtfully. “That is a conundrum, isn't it? I'm still investigating, but I can hardly imagine what kind of enemies Colonel Mutsuki might have. Someone powerful maybe...? Goodness, in our NOL even? Now that would be a problem wouldn't it? It might imply he's had his hands in something someone doesn't like...Now tell me dear captain perhaps—“

“He's done nothing but serve the people around him, working in the people's best interests. Maybe it's whoever did this that has the problem. They did send assassins after all,” Hibiki snapped, effectively cutting Hazama off.

The taller man shrugged off the implication, still smiling away. “My...I suppose you have a point. Sending out assassins is pretty nasty, isn't it? But Colonel Mutsuki keeps one so close at his side...Someone like you, captain. You play secretary by day, but look at you by night.” Hazama gestured loosely toward Hibiki, spurring him to look down at the mess his uniform was in. The better parts of his cape were splashed with stripes of blood in patterns he could recognize because of the cut of his blade, because of the way he attacked, because of the way flesh strained under steel reacted. He could taste it at this point. His tongue felt too big in his mouth suddenly. 

“I will do whatever my master asks of me. If it's this, more, or less. I will see it done,” Hibiki answered out of practice—the way his thoughts organized on a regular basis. If Kagura needed it, he would see it done. It was always that way. 

Hazama strode up a little closer, stopped just a long pace away from him. The distance was short so Hazama could speak a little quieter, his voice dropping lower, almost tempting in tone. “I understand, captain, but is this what you want to do? I'd hate to see you suffer for a master who'd send you out like this. I understand, really I do.” Hazama leaned in a little closer. “But if it feels good to cut free of being a little secretary all the time...I don't see any problem either. Someone with your skills...you'll still rust over time...” 

Hibiki froze as Hazama remained close. Something about the spark of yellow in his eyes kept Hibiki glued in place. All his limbs were fighting to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. All he could do was watch Hazama's face, the way his voice almost soothed. The taller man reached into his coat and withdrew a handkerchief—a pure, soft white—and brought it up to Hibiki's face. 

“I suppose you can just let your desires guide you...wherever they might be,” Hazama said as he quickly swiped up a bit of blood that had gotten over Hibiki's cheek. Hibiki couldn't find it in himself to even move—the shock of the softer move threw him off entirely. Hazama's words didn't help either. The second he found his consciousness back in his body, he blurted out the first words to come to him.

“I don't have any desires. I will do as my master needs me to. That's all there is.” He couldn't even determine his own emotion—there was none. There needed to be none.

Hazama leaned back, the white now-red-stained cloth still in his hand. “Oh? Well, don't mind me too much. I just thought I'd take a moment to connect. One of us to another, hm? Here.” He held his hand out. 

Hibiki hesitated but put one blade away, the other still gripped tightly. Once his hand was out, Hazama gently tucked the handkerchief into Hibiki's palm, easing his fingers around it so that he might not drop it. His hand almost felt warm through Hibiki's gloves; his fingers easily covering Hibiki's smaller grasp. They parted without any fanfare.

“You'll need more than that to clean up with, but consider it yours along with my well wishes. I know we'll see each other again Captain Kohaku. Whenever I find anything out...you'll be the first to hear of it, I'm sure.” 

A small smile was the last look Hibiki saw on Hazama's face before he turned and started to walk away. Hibiki's eyes followed Hazama's form, unsure what to even say or do with him. The thin man merely seemed to walk away with such a casual ease that Hibiki couldn't argue. The best he could do was memorize his form, his voice, everything about him so he could be prepared for the next time.

Before he knew it, Hazama was out of sight, Hibiki left with his handkerchief grasped tightly, hands shaking. His other blade only remained in his fingers out of necessity. If there were more attackers he could move, he could leave this position and do as he was asked. Instead he remained trapped between two bodies he'd sliced through—clean cuts that split the assassins into noticeable dissections. Muscle and bone were clear where blood hadn't clogged up sight of the inner workings. One that took a strike on the skull remained near Hibiki's blood spattered shoes—heels so red they no longer looked white. Red soaked into the brown of the earth around him. 

Something shook—more from within than outside. Hibiki felt twisted up, charged, awake, all at once. He tasted this fight in the back of his throat. The smell no longer made his eyes sting or his body recoil. His thoughts rattled around—seeking more. There had to be more than this moment. 

Hibiki snapped himself out of it, jamming his other sword back into his sheath. His other palm opened; the handkerchief was still there, the smattering of blood still visible in the edge Hazama had curved around his fingers. A part of the cloth felt like he was still on it somehow, like Hazama's very being stained whatever he touched. Hibiki grimaced. His head was spinning, his thoughts tumbling mercilessly. It was exhaustion. It had to be. He was out of shape maybe. Out of practice. Rusted over.

What good was he to Kagura rusted? What sort of tool let itself rust? 

He shook off thoughts after one more try, pushing his feet to carry him back to base. The handkerchief tucked away safely, close to his chest. It was the only proof he had that Hazama was real. If he himself were real, he wasn't sure.


	3. Threshold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hibiki accepts his new mission hunting Kagura's would be assassins--a task that soon wears on the both of them terribly. With no sign of the person behind the attacks and only more blood on Hibiki's hands, the pair's relationship strains and crosses into darker territory.

Hibiki stood at Kagura's door for a full thirty seconds. It was 2:57am. Before it would inevitably become 2:58am, Hibiki knocked on the dense wood with white-stained-red gloved hands. Tucked close to his heart was a lump of equally red on white fabric that made up Hazama's handkerchief. Where it didn't smell coppery Hibiki made out a softer scent—something laundered fresh and clean. It had since mostly rubbed off in his trip from the battlefield to Kagura's door, but the previous clarity of the scent teased the back of his thoughts. It lingered at his cheek.

He made out the sound of Kagura's heels hitting the floor just barely then clearer footfalls to the door. The wood creaked gently as the knob turned and Kagura appeared—hardly dressed and exhaustion open over his features. Hibiki wondered how he slept at all. That tired look on his face disappeared when he saw the state of Hibiki's clothing—spattered with blood and tattered from combat. He would have seen Hibiki in this form before, but perhaps he had not prepared himself to be here once again. 

“Hibiki...Are you okay?” he asked like something blocked his throat. 

Hibiki straightened up. “I'm fine. I'd like to make a report—preferably not in the hallway,” he said in the typical firmness and professional tone he reserved for moments when he needed it most. 

Concern crossed Kagura's features as he leaned a little closer down Hibiki's way. Something about the sharp shimmer of worry in his eyes made Hibiki uncomfortable. He didn't need to hold that kind of energy for what essentially existed as a tool. 

“No way, Hibiki. Not like this. You're totally soaked...What the hell...” he muttered at first, at something of a loss. Almost hesitating, Kagura put a hand on Hibiki's shoulder—a hold too light to be normal and reassuring. “Are you sure you're not hurt?” he pressed. 

“It's not mine,” Hibiki began vaguely before continuing. “That is to say, I wasn't injured. Those who attacked me weren't so lucky.” 

Kagura grimaced. “Just...go clean up. Report to me after, okay?” 

The grip of Kagura's hand at his shoulder finally tightened—almost normal. Hibiki nodded. “Understood. I'll return shortly.” 

Fingertips pressed in harder at the back of Hibiki's shoulder, Kagura's hand starting to turn him around if he didn't follow through with the steps himself. Willingly enough, Hibiki turned his back on him and started for his room. No other words could fill the space—instead Kagura's hand separated from Hibiki's body and he simply made his way back to his room. He stripped down once there, putting his uniform remains in a pile to later be disposed of carefully. 

Water hot, he stood in the shower for a few long minutes—making no attempt to scrub that feeling off his skin—not at first. He gave himself a breather before really properly cleaning up—by the book clearing himself of evidence of the hours prior. When he stepped out of the shower, the only thing out of place was the handkerchief he'd placed on his desk. His eyes strayed to the small bundle out of place in all of his usual neatness and outside of the bag sealing his bloodied uniform. He stepped over and folded the handkerchief and tucked it between two large hard cover books in the desk's shelf. That was the kind of evidence he needed. 

The usual secretary's uniform hung up in his closet—pristine as always. He dressed as it if were any other morning and made his way back to Kagura's door. When he knocked this time it was 3:14am. Kagura answered faster, with pants this time. Seeing Hibiki more like he expected of him, he let him into the room this time. The inside of Kagura's room was plush as any member of the Duodecim would be expected to keep it. His bed laid in a mess of scattered sheets and blankets, pillow cover slightly off—likely from uneasy sleep. Perhaps Kagura hadn't been resting well at all. Hibiki didn't smell alcohol at least—perhaps he'd kept his word. 

A soft red-orange light—dimmed—gave Kagura's worried expression the kind of shading that made him look serious for once. He spoke once the door was closed. “Everything okay?” 

“I'm fine, if you're asking again.”

Kagura paused—expression harder to read for that brief second before his lips parted once more. “Yeah, I am asking. I didn't expect it to be that bad.” 

“There were a few of them. They thought they might get lucky and use me to get to you. I had intended to capture one as you requested, but things did not go as planned,” Hibiki reported with an even tone.

Kagura took a few steps and eventually sat himself at the edge of his bed, one hand running through his hair. “I see...Did something happen?”

“Someone happened, to be specific. That man I've been concerned about...Captain Hazama appeared and finished off the last man standing.” 

Kagura's eyes widened briefly, shoulders tense. “That what it is...? He tell you what he wanted?”

“Only that he'd been tracking those men as well. He seems to hold some of the same suspicions that we do.” 

“The bigger question is if he's on their side...He could just be playing with us at this point,” Kagura said, gaze on the nightstand lamp as if it held the answers. He shook his head. “We'll need to dig on this guy...but if he's really Intelligence that might be tricky. He's probably watching our every move.” 

Hibiki already intended to do every kind of dig he could on Hazama. Without a doubt the man existed and he had his hands already deep into whatever this was. Lips sealed for now, Hibiki watched Kagura obviously mulling his options over.

“For now, I need you to be the one digging into who these assassins are and who's sending them. I'm sure that wasn't the last of them,” Kagura decided at the end of it all.

Hibiki bowed his head. “Very well. I'll see to it.”

“ _After_ you get some rest. I'll be fine for a few hours. You need some sleep,” Kagura cut in before Hibiki could turn to leave. 

A short breath and relaxed teeth once grit together, Hibiki answered. “Of course, colonel. You sleep well yourself.” 

“Will do. Goodnight, Hibiki.”

“Goodnight.” 

Hibiki felt himself begin to hesitate—one hand clutched more tightly to his body. He relaxed himself with a soft breath. A bow of his head later and turned to leave. There was a hint of something else in Kagura's eyes before he pushed away. What that was, it was hard for Hibiki to say. Was he truly concerned or simply thrown off? 

This was Hibiki's purpose in the end—he understood that well enough. The thought ran like ice down his spine. He walked a little faster back to his quarters. A drying bloody mess remained to be disposed of. 

* * *

The following week gave Hibiki more and more work to do. By day he was at Kagura's side as his secretary—unfailing in the colonel's needs and at times more than that. Once the sun sunk over the horizon, uniforms would change, his blades would be hitched to his waist and off he would take. A couple nights were fruitless endeavors, but a greater majority led Hibiki to a trail—more and more resolute assassins as time pressed on. Rather than their enemy seeming to grow desperate in the help they sent they instead threw out more challenging attackers. 

By the third night in this exchange of blows Hibiki found himself down a dimly lit alleyway in town—stone tiling underfoot spattered with fresh carnage, blood between the rocks running free. He'd drawn his enemy here for his own advantage and yet still struggled. The familiar sensation of gore mixed across his clothes and features—a spray from a clear cut across the gut—clinging to his person with a noticeable weight. Somewhere between a calm order for information and pressing combat he'd lost himself, a certain light-headedness only fading as silence filled the street. 

He breathed out heavily, the air shaky over his lip. 

Gloved fingers thumbed into his internal pocket, reaching for the time: 4:44am. 

Kagura could hear of his enemies' defeat in the morning. Surely he needed the rest. 

Hibiki took two steps out of the narrow path, heels soft on the pavement. Heel, toe, knee bent, a step. A single repeat. A strained sigh. Something out of the corner of his eye flittered by causing him to spin around quickly. The shadows played with his eyes a moment longer before he located the projection—a moth converging around the lamp at the end of the path. The vision burned against his retinas with everything else deeply dark. Briefly, he thought of Hazama, the man like a blight on the corner of his sight. Always just out of reach but the damper he put on the light around him so obvious. 

They had yet to dig up anything meaningful on him. He existed at best. No one in their branch really had contact with him and reaching outside it was sometimes a task, and a risky one. There was no telling who still remained on Kagura's side. 

It would come down to an order for Hibiki to travel to another branch. He knew that. After days of stopping assassins and following around what vigilante circles were saying, Hibiki had no doubt. It was a matter of Kagura breaking down and ordering in more help to keep him safe in Hibiki's absence. Surely Hibiki was the only one he could trust with this task outside of their usual reach. He felt assured in that. Some time away from Kagura's strange gaze sounded nice. 

When the pair met again the morning after the rough battle in the alley Kagura looked no better. Hibiki could see the way the news rested on Kagura's shoulders. The usually broad form slumped more heavily in his chair—not from the usual hungover foolishness but an uncharacteristic lack of sleep. The circles under his eyes grew darker every morning and an exhausted dryness caught his voice especially early in the morning. Every sign indicated this wasn't working. But what they did ultimately wasn't up to Hibiki's scrutiny. 

Kagura shifted up out of his chair behind his desk, taking a few paces to the window. One hand lingered up into the air, grasping at the curtain to pull it slightly more aside. That degree of sunlight filled the space the heavy fabric had been—all but his hand bathed in a warm yellow light. From behind Hibiki mostly saw his outline—a taller, bigger figure between himself and what laid beyond the window. 

Hibiki didn't leave anything out of his report regarding the fall of the assassins under his blades—certainly not their strengths, the power, the unwillingness to even crack a shred of information. Whoever wanted Kagura's head had their lips sealed so tightly not even the threat of death or worse pulled it out of them—Hibiki knew. He tried it. His hands felt unsteady as Kagura failed to react beyond an acknowledgment that he'd heard. 

Was that not good enough? Had he been an inefficient tool still? 

His breath hitched as Kagura finally spoke.

“Hibiki...I'm putting you back on desk duty. No nights out,” he said flatly, back still to him.

“...Excuse me Colonel...? Is now really the time for that?” 

“Yeah. It is. This isn't working.” 

“So you'll just let them attack you?” 

There was a pause. Kagura glanced over his shoulder. “They might let their guard down if they get that far. I might have a better chance of getting something out of them.”

Hibiki's face remained a cold mask. “Are you saying I can't do it, sir?” 

“I'm saying you keep going out there and keeping coming back like...” he trailed off, turning back away.

“Coming back like what? If I'm not working to your liking...” 

Something seized Hibiki's train of thought, muscle tense. What Kagura might say next would determine a matter of importance. How much it was so or what it all meant yet hadn't finished turning in his gears. Hibiki sensed it though. His fist remained clenched tight at his side. 

“You got wounded this time and you're not really resting enough. It's better if you stay here. That's what I'm trying to say, Hibiki.” 

His chest tightened. His gaze lowered to the floor briefly before his vision felt more foggy in the bright morning light pouring through the window and over Kagura's shoulders. “...Understood. That's all I can do then,” he answered, tone chilly.

Kagura didn't seem to mind or notice, only looking relieved he agreed. He turned back around to face him, a slight smile at his lips. “Good. That's gonna be better for the both of us. Get some rest. I'll call you back in the afternoon, we'll work out a plan then.” 

“Of course.” 

Understanding he was dismissed, Hibiki left the office, the warmth of the new light in the windows gone out in the cooler tiled hallway. He lingered outside the doorway for what felt like a very long time. He couldn't remember if he'd slept much in some time, but Kagura hadn't either. Was why his plan the fine one and not Hibiki's? His thoughts pooled and splashed around that question—aggressively knocking around his skull as his legs eventually carried him back to his own quarters. 

He let himself in. Removed his coat. Dropped into bed. Eyes wide open, trapped on an empty ceiling above. His vision spun like a carousel—thoughts riding up and down around his head—never getting anywhere but circles. Had he honestly failed this terribly? This. The one thing he'd been trained and drilled in doing and it wasn't enough for him? His life seemed to pass over his eyelids and into whatever vague dreaming he did for a few hours. At some point he couldn't tell them apart. 

Within a few hours he woke, sat upright, and returned to Kagura's office doing his best to look refreshed. It seemed the colonel was not much better off himself. He looked ready to pass out at his desk, a pile of paperwork scattered around his person. With a weary look he watched Hibiki approach.

“Hey...give me a hand with all this?” he asked, more resigned than usual about this. 

With a nod Hibiki found himself gathering and organizing things, going for tea, taking memos, and passing messages as needed. Things became normal—as they had not too long ago. The back of his brain itched through it, but he adjusted well enough. He had been this way for Kagura for a very long time now it seemed. He had been built up for other purposes—something his body never let him forget as he handled basic tasks—but he could handle this too. He grew numb to a screaming concern that trouble would pour through the window and take Kagura out of his hands. 

He could feel Kagura drifting instead. The man grew more and more exhausted over the following days. He slept at some point. Hibiki knew he did because he spent some hours each night guarding his door. With an ear pressed to the surface he could make out the sound of even breathing on occasion. No assassins had been bold enough to enter the NOL branch itself—at least not to Hibiki's knowledge and not under his or any other's watch. And yet Kagura's behavior grew more erratic around him. The look in his eyes when they met in the morning was not the same thinly veiled appreciation Hibiki got even when rousing him from a hungover state. Something wedged between the usual and the past few days that left Hibiki feeling far away—outside his own body and yet present at the same time. 

Every so often he would catch Kagura's lips parting—words on the very edge of them, but his tongue retracting in the end and discomfort settling at his brow. He would bury his face back into paperwork, one hand slipping through his hair, fingers tense. Hibiki knew it wasn't just lack of sleeping getting to him. Those unspoken words were always directed his way, always with unease and an unsettling feeling in the room. There was something even Kagura could not tell him but wanted to. And yet he could not bring himself to call him out on it. Any other time, any other issue he would be the first to crack against Kagura's skull on it. 

His own throat collapsed around the idea. Restricted and tight, air thick, almost dusty as he tried to understand it. This had to be about his own failure. About being unable to stop the lingering danger. The only purpose he'd been bred into. 

Anxiety tore into his chest each time their gazes parted and Kagura buried his head again. They did this dance for days. They could do it for only so long it felt like—each time snapping a little thread in whatever hitched Hibiki safely to Kagura's side. Handfuls of frayed threads shook in Hibiki's hands, trembling. He was not going to be able to keep them afloat. 

There was no escaping Kagura's eye on him. The way his gaze followed him out the door, the tightness of his breath. Once Hibiki put a finger on it, he backed away. It had taken a week of this but it sank in. That look he didn't want to acknowledge. It ran him to the roof.

His body carried him to the top of the branch—parched throat and tight-fisted as his gaze locked with a sun already set and a sky nearly absent of warmer color save for a fraction at the horizon. He grappled with the thought before he tried to push it away—under and away from his own consciousness where it would be safer and better to function regularly without it. 

Hands grasped the railing with a brief sense of vertigo. Hibiki had no fear of heights but for a second he felt himself toppling over the edge. His shoes remained planted firmly on the flat rooftop, only his upper body hanging over ever so slightly. It was enough as the world spun around. The best he could do was keep avoiding everything. 

“My, don't lose your balance now, Captain Kohaku,” rang a voice in an echo across the roof. 

Hibiki spun around, just barely catching a vision of something over his shoulder. Strides away stood Captain Hazama, his hands casually resting in his pockets, the tails of his coat fluttering softly in the wind. He smiled with all the charm of the devil—something distinct in the way his lips parted and rested each, in the way his eyes were rarely clear. 

He felt a breath through his mouth, hardly realizing he'd been holding it in until then. Hazama seemed unbothered with Hibiki's less welcoming stance, the way the smaller man reached for the knife in his coat. The other captain only strode closer giving the appearance of someone relaxed. No matter what Hazama seemed to be at some kind of peace—or an artificial peace of his own design. It put Hibiki on edge further still. 

“No need to give me such a look. I was in the area looking into your little...problem still,” Hazama offered in explanation, freeing one hand to gesture Hibiki's way. “I'm not here for a fight. I wouldn't like to fight someone with your talents anyway.” 

It took a second for Hibiki to recognize the way he was glaring—every muscle in his body twisted up, ready to attack if he had to. Hazama's tone eased that, but only to a certain point. He was disarming and at the same time deeply worrying. 

“Do you have something to say, Captain Hazama?” Hibiki asked, trying to find any sense of his usual manners but felt empty-handed for the attempt. 

“A few things. But when don't I have something?” he laughed, amused with his own comment it seemed. 

Hibiki stood up a little straighter, but one hand never strayed far from his blade. It wasn't much but if Hazama really did suddenly turn on him...

His thoughts stopped there. What indication did he have of Hazama doing anything to him? He appeared strangely and acted oddly, but so far he'd done nothing. He felt a twitch at his cheek. The handkerchief, that was it. 

“Is it about the assassins?” 

“It certainly is. But I can't help noticing...I haven't seen you hunting down clues in a little while. Taken off the job were you?” 

Hazama's tone sounded less like a question and more like an accusation. He'd stepped closer now—almost too much so as he and Hibiki were only a short stride apart, Hibiki's back nearly up against the railing and the edge. 

“I didn't ask you. It's none of your business.” 

“It might just be. If you're not working on this anymore it might be a...well, a _liability_ to get you involved. If Colonel Mutsuki doesn't trust you with this information, how can I give it to you?” Hazama said, his hands at his hips. 

Hibiki felt something shattering under his feet—the world breaking apart below him, his consciousness sinking deeper and deeper. As he fell all he could see was Hazama's smiling face and soon enough his outstretched hand. Without thinking Hibiki clasped his hand and in an instant he was back on his feet and air left his lips cold but his own. 

“Easy now, captain. You don't look so good. Let me help you, here,” Hazama offered and shifted, keeping close and offering Hibiki his arm to hold onto. Still unsteady Hibiki found himself accepting the help, vision swirling. 

That explained that look. That answer he would have avoided for only so long. Kagura surely didn't trust him with this work anymore. He was not sufficient. 

A tool with no purpose. 

While close Hazama spoke more quietly, nearer to Hibiki's ear. “You know if you'd like to get into the colonel's good graces again. I have an idea for you...” 

His words trailed off but Hibiki saw clearly enough to look his way. The taller figure remained somewhat hunched to match his height, his voice a sweet pull, almost grounding. Realistic under a dark sky full of bleary stars. Hazama's hand felt warm as he patted Hibiki's holding onto his other arm. 

“I know who's sending those nasty assassins after good Colonel Mutsuki and giving him such an awful time. If I give just you...and only you, the name and their location...surely the world wouldn't miss one too-powerful leader, would it?” Hazama said, words dripping like a thick honey over Hibiki's thoughts. It was a comforting encasement around a mind reeling from emptiness. Hibiki found himself a little more whole as Hazama coaxed his other hand forward and in it he placed a slip of paper—small and folded over twice, neatly. Absently, Hibiki pried it open to find neat letters inked and clear despite the creases. Within: a name, one he recognized among the Librarium and a location, one he could reach within a day or two. 

His voice caught in this throat. His glance tangled with Hazama's for once—bright yellow eyes boring into him, driving that voice further back. 

Hazama smiled further. “I'm sure you'll set things right soon.” 

Heart pumping against his chest, legs unsteady, Hibiki nodded just once. Rationality never settled back in—everything still distant and hazy, but the smallest path more clear. If Kagura was ever going to trust him and use him properly again, he would have to prove he could do it. 

His lips parted. Two words left his tongue.

“Thank you.”


	4. Murky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagura receives news that high ranking NOL officers have died in quick succession. Report after report files in, painting an undoubtedly clear picture to what is happening to these men--men he was already suspicious of regarding the attempts on his own life. The image left seems to show an outcome he would have never predicted. More than anything else Kagura wanted to be wrong about this, just this one time.

Kagura drew the heavy curtains closed with white knuckled fists. At any second, he expected a shadow at his shoulder and hip—the soft breath of a familiar tone murmuring his name. Anticipation put an ache into his muscles like he'd pushed his body too hard. In all honesty, he'd hardly shifted far between his office and his room. Top to bottom he'd carefully filled this location with soldiers and officers he trusted. Each and every one had been personally checked by himself and Hibiki just to ensure the stability of operations. He couldn't do much about other branch officers visiting, but he still regulated everything with a precision he couldn't carry on his own. 

There really wasn't much he could do on his own. The strain of “leading figure” confined Kagura to his office, constantly on call to act on behalf of the NOL and Duodecim both. Accomplishing anything a regular officer might do took help—took legwork he left to the small captain who was generally berating him again by this hour. 

Another sun set, orange light filtering through a crack in the curtains. A stain of pink cut across the floor in the sharp line edge of the slit another pane down. 

He hadn't seen Hibiki in three days.

He hadn't heard from Hibiki in three days.

He hadn't slept in what felt like much, much longer. 

A thought kept him from putting out an official search for Hibiki—something weighing heavily on his heart. Hibiki never even showed late once in his life. If he ever left the office early for work he would always tell Kagura. This time instead they parted on strange words—something mundane and stupid. He couldn't even remember if he thanked him for the last cup of coffee. The cups he'd had in recent days were brewed by uneasy hands and never tasted right. He poured in more and more grinds, getting more and more bitter brews that burned his tongue to the point he wasn't sure he could taste it anymore. 

The cool and casual air that defined Kagura's style of leadership fell in place of long cold nights and jumpy static silences topped with a feeling he couldn't define. 

When the news hit his desk he knew immediately. With Hibiki out another officer reported in, letting him know NOL officials were found dead in their offices. One, then two more over the couple days. 

He sensed it right away after viewing the report. The descriptions of the gutted corpses, the broken into offices by someone obviously familiar with the NOL. But more than anything, he knew based on the completely icy look Hibiki had on his face when he didn't think Kagura was looking. He'd always been cold, but he'd reached freezing temperatures in the last few days. A gulf gaped between Hibiki and the rest of the world—like he'd float in and out from another dimension when he was needed. Hibiki always maintained a very low presence; however, this was something else. Something Kagura hesitated to mention. He must have shown him that unease. Let his guard down for a second. 

His captain must have thought he couldn't handle this pressure anymore. Assassins were nothing to him in reality—an annoyance, but they would have eventually filtered out or turned more overt. Surely something was going to change soon. Yet now, no assassins came. No suspicious sightings despite heightened security after the reports came in. 

Kagura knew why instinctively. Calling out a search for his missing Captain would only confirm that. Optimism faded. The gut feeling remained. He buried his face and mind achingly in paperwork.

 

* * *

 

Cold evening air poured into his lungs, leaving in hot exhales—in labored pants born more out of his chest than anywhere else. Shoulder to elbow to fingertip, his body remained steady, sure. The floor around him spun in jerky bursts and blurry tilts, the floor-to-wall edges washing together like a watercolor. The office was like any other one in the NOL—heavy curtains and a solid desk at one end. 

Hibiki turned the fresh body on the floor over with the heel of his shoe, the face of the dead officer frozen in surprise. He crouched down and fished a gloved hand through the coat pockets of the man, eventually drawing forth what he was looking for. His gloves left a red wet stain where his thumb pressed but he paid it no mind. 

Fresh orders for more “special agents” were hastily scrawled on the document bearing the signature of the NOL agent in charge of the division and who's office Hibiki had now covered in the spillage of his secretary officer. He tucked the note carefully into his own breast pocket; his eyes scanned the room. It was only a matter of time before the squadron officer unfriendly to Colonel Mutsuki's cause would seek out his right-hand man. 

Hibiki stood back up straight, ignoring the way the walls melted to the floor as he checked his blades placed gently back in the large sheath at hip. Each shimmered a little duller in the moonlight pooling through broken windows at the middle of the outer wall. Neither was as sharp as it had been a few minutes prior. 

The clock on the wall ticked nervously as seconds pressed on—time still moving forward. Out of habit, Hibiki checked his own watch. The clock on the wall was two minutes slow. He pocketed the watch again. Two minutes slow he would have to operate by then. A few long breaths later, he tensed up again—body wound in fresh loops, wound up and muscles ready to spring loose the second he gained a visitor. 

Footsteps pounded down the hall—a heavier figure fast approaching. The door slammed open and the officer rushed in, throwing the door closed behind himself. His lips parted, fist clenching something as Hibiki pressed to meet him—his blade leading and driving in at the flat edge into the officer's middle, tearing free with a flourish of gore as nothing but sputtering and blood made it from his mouth. He dropped to his knees and after a zombie-like second of remaining partially upright, he dropped entirely to the floor—sharing blood coverage with his corpse subordinate. Hibiki returned his blade to its home at his back and locked the door. 

Methodically, Hibiki crouched once more over this fresh body, reaching into his jacket as well before realizing what he'd seen in that flash before killing him. He pried the fingers apart of the clamped fist of the dead and looked over the letter. This one called for an investigation into four other dead high ranked NOL agents. Gently Hibiki set the letter back into the man's hand and closed his fingers back into a fist around it again. 

He stood. Took steps back over bodies and broken glass. Breathed once. Threw himself back out the careful first hole he'd made in the window. The clock in his pocket continued to tick two minutes fast. 

 

* * *

 

Reports lined up over the next couple of days. No killer could be found or named and no outside groups were taking credit for the deaths of officials in the NOL. All had been found in similar states—killed by surprise, effortlessly, very little sign of struggle if any at all. Most fell into neat piles of blood and their own gore—a spray or two from the wide swipe of whatever blade undid them. More and more officers feared for their lives as the information couldn't be kept locked to the upper levels. Unease hung over every branch office—even the one under Kagura's own management.

Kagura felt his heart encroaching on his throat each time he read a new report. Very little sleep left him exhausted and short tempered even with the kindest of his staff. He regretted it each time and yet couldn't find the energy to correct anything. He ached for a drink, but he'd given Hibiki his word—for some reason he felt compelled to keep it. 

Hibiki's missing presence plagued his thoughts and motions. Everything natural in the course of a day became foreign and somehow a little lonely despite fairly constant visits and company from other officers. He put on his best face he could despite it. The sensation still hung over his mind, clouding usually clear thoughts. It worked for a time, but it had to close somewhere.

That night he remained in the office late and gave in. He started to pen a letter for other officers to begin looking for the missing captain. If something terrible really did happen with him, he needed to know. Not knowing left him with a sick shiver of uncertainty—a feeling wholly unfamiliar to the forward and confident Colonel. 

Kagura left the letter face up on his desk for a moment, pen still gripped in his hand tightly. He fought the urge to crumple the damn thing up and toss it. He couldn't wait any longer to hear from the captain. Ink a little more dry, he folded the letter over, starting to seal it as he heard a knock on the door. 

He braced quickly for another report containing bad news. 

“Come in,” he called out, shuffling the letter with orders under some other things. He could take care of it after this perhaps—if the will to do it didn't exit his body in the meantime. 

Kagura's eyes widened as the door opened and was shut politely behind the opener. 

Hibiki remained close to the sealed doorway. He felt Kagura's eyes on him almost too sharp and fixed to bear. He straightened himself up and stood firmly in place, his usual uniform as crisp and professional as always. He had hoped the sight would be normalizing for the Colonel. 

Lips parted and shut again a few times before Kagura found any words to speak. “Hibiki...Where the hell have you been?” he asked after a silence moments too long. The tone was mysterious—strange to Hibiki's ears. 

Thoughts of conversation repopulated his mind. “I've been out.”

“Out?!” Kagura gawked at first, finally rising from his desk to stride Hibiki's way. His hand immediately caught a hold of Hibiki's shoulder, holding tightly. He leaned over slightly, bringing his face a little closer to the captain's height. “Look, Hibiki. I've been wondering where you've been for days. What the hell happened to you?” he questioned fast—at a speed and tone that almost seemed worried.

Hibiki tensed under the feeling of Kagura's hand, his shoulder seeming so much smaller suddenly. His gaze remained forward, meeting Kagura's evenly in a way few could do. The chill in the air solidified, hanging over a slowly grinding tick of the clock. Hibiki considered saying nothing, his throat too dry to begin anything long-winded anyway. Everything clung to the sides of his windpipe, slowing even the soft breath that came first. 

“I received information on your enemies. I took care of them.” 

The admission fell over Kagura like a cloud-cover veil—any relief in his expression soon turned deeply dark—the heavy circles under his eyes felt weightier still. Lips parted but nothing came out at first. His hand gripped Hibiki a little harder, but the grasp didn't garner any kind of reaction—not even a flinch. Hibiki's tone had been a flat register—He didn't even blink at his own message.

Hibiki's eyes locked with Kagura's, almost shimmering with an intensity, nearly gold over brown. He continued in the same tone. “You can rest easier now, Colonel. The worst of them are gone. The rest will be far too afraid to consider acting again.” 

Kagura tried and failed another time to speak. His other hand clasped at Hibiki's free shoulder, just trying to hold the young man down for another second if he could keep him conscious in this realm a little longer. No matter how tightly he held him, it seemed like he were floating away, slowly slowly, like a drifting raft in a calm wave out to sea and out of reach.

Exhaustion and frustration spoke before any other nerve in Kagura's body. “I gave you a direct order not to do that! I told you to stay here!” He didn't hesitate to continue, only a brief pause as any cooler facade fell into everything against that, knitted eyebrows, panicked eyes, unsteady hands. “How the hell am I supposed to cover all this up? There's no way this is going to just blow over. They were high ranking officers, Hibiki!” 

Hibiki remained still in the Colonel's grasp, his focus hazy as he continued. The heavy feeling weighing on his chest dropped deeper into his core and back, yanking his spine toward the floor. “They wanted you dead, Colonel,” he found himself saying. 

“I was working on weeding them out and building a case against them! It would have taken awhile, but...!” Kagura stopped himself, teeth gritted. 

“I only intended to protect you. That's what I'm here to do, among other things, but that is my main priority in remaining at your side.” A pause, chest tight. “If you would no longer have me serving you...Please just say so,” he continued softly, just above a whisper. 

“I'm saying you may not be able to regardless of what I might want,” Kagura snapped, almost shaking him by the shoulders. Hibiki braced for it, but it seemed the Colonel could hold back still. How much longer felt unclear. 

“Have I not been useful to you?” Hibiki asked as he watched Kagura's face closely. His gaze followed every twitch in his face, the pain that shortly crossed his expression after the question. Hibiki couldn't process why it ached so much to see. 

“That's not even the question right now...I don't know what's going on with you, but you're not acting like yourself Hibiki. I...seriously don't know what to do with you,” Kagura said after some pushing of his words. The struggle kept his lips in a thin frown, eyes unable to keep locked in contact as Hibiki had tried to keep them. His ship sailed further out, legs unsteady at sea as waves crashed up over the surface and surely started to sink the vessel. 

Lips parted to let out one last drowning bubble of air. “Whatever you would have me do, Colonel, I'm listening.”

Kagura's arms tensed for a moment. His grasp on Hibiki's shoulders loosened slightly. Hesitation filled his tone and body clearly. “Go to your quarters...Stay there. Don't leave...Okay? Just stay put for a little while...I'll figure something out.” Kagura's hands let him go, his arms hung loose at his sides, defeated.

Hibiki let the answer bowl him over, thoughts foggy through the rush. “Understood,” he replied out of habit and turned to the door. His hand grasped the handle and he made his way out. He could feel Kagura's eyes on his back, almost sense the unspoken words swaying off his tongue. Even with half a second of pause, nothing came of it. 

Hibiki walked out.

He went to his quarters.

He shut himself in.

Time collapsed all over the furniture and across his shoulders, laying heavily into his limits and sinking him into the nearest chair. There was no telling how long this could last. A piece of him realized he might never leave this room. That or the next room might be behind bars. Five minutes turned to agonizing hours of pacing, sitting again, sinking, repeating. How long had it been since Kagura sent him away? It felt distant—like the conversation took place in another lifetime. Hibiki struggled to keep aware, especially as his watch seemed to oscillate between the minute reality and the flow of time in a parallel world—one where things surged faster, steadily, without concern for this space. 

He knew one thing from seeing Kagura again: one thing that continued to invade his thoughts callously as the clock harassed him too—Kagura did not want him near anymore. Perhaps some other family would provide Kagura newer, better tools to keep at his side, to properly protect him the way he liked. Hibiki had not been efficient nor perfect enough. His failings clawed at his throat. 

This position at Kagura Mutsuki's side was nearly all he'd known for years. Despite frustrations, this place remained the one he felt some sense of belonging—no matter how brief it seemed now. Ages of training really stacked up to nothing. No amount of deadly precision could turn this back. He stayed a sharpened edge, one no longer suited to be pointed at any target. 

Somewhere in the pit of his thoughts, he heard a knock on his door. It rattled through his head for a few long seconds—the sound so completely abnormal. No one ever knocked for him. Only a few times had Kagura ever come to him after hours. Usually it was the other way around. 

His legs carried him to the doorway. If it were Kagura to set the final nail in his coffin he might as well meet him honestly and readily. Fingers unlocked and opened the door slightly from the frame. His eyes searched upward, seeking the familiar violet gaze—however it might look down on him now. He met instead with a broad smile, so friendly it seemed unreal. 

Hazama leaned a little closer. “I see you've made it back, Captain,” he said in the same tone he always seemed to speak in—pleasant, sickly so.

Hibiki sputtered for that first few seconds, enough that Hazama took it as a signal to continue speaking. 

“I want to talk to you about something. Privately. May I join you?” 

Somehow he managed to nod and take two steps back, opening the door with the motion. Briefly he wondered why no guards watched his quarters, but didn't dare to look out and see if something happened to any either. Instead his gaze followed Hazama drifting elegantly into his room—this single solitary space far too much to suit Hibiki's on presence but barely held the breath Hazama took once he was within. Hibiki shut the door and locked it again. Hazama paid it no mind. 

The tall guest stepped casually, moving soon to Hibiki's desk, having a seat there like he'd visited a dozen times before. One leg crossed over the other and Hazama gestured for Hibiki to take a chair nearby. Hibiki followed the silent request. 

“You seem tired, Captain. I hope I'm not interrupting your break.” 

“I'm fine. What do you need?” 

The shortness of the response didn't slow Hazama down—he simply continued unfettered. “That is the question, isn't it? Well, I can get down to business if I must.” Hazama rested back, one palm flat on the surface of the desk, his free hand open to move as he spoke. “I've kept tabs on the hits you made. Your work was excellent. I hadn't even narrowed things down to that many of them, but I assume a trail opened up for you on the path?” 

Hibiki found his voice smaller than he would have liked. “Yes...A ring of them were exchanging notes in secret and shuffling orders between a few groups of men for hire. Some were NOL agents in disguise.” 

“Oh? That is interesting, isn't it? Did you manage to grab some of their documents?” 

“Yes.” 

Hazama shifted to give Hibiki a brief few claps of applause. “Truly you are an expert in your craft! I'm sure your Colonel is thrilled to be safe once again.” 

Hibiki's fists tightened, his shoulders deeply tense. “It wasn't to his liking.” 

Surprise crossed over Hazama's features and he leaned forward toward where Hibiki sat across from him. “Really? You save his life and you don't even get a 'thank you?' That's pretty rough. If you were in my unit you'd have certainly been praised. Well, I can at least tell you 'good job' in his place anyway.” 

“I think he intends to have me thrown out.”

“Thrown out? That's a bit strongly worded, don't you think?” 

Hibiki shook his head, his gaze downward, but hardly focused on the floor below. He hardly saw it anyway. “I was shaped for his service. It seems I don't fit it,” he said, voice cold and quiet.

Hazama hummed thoughtfully, resting back once again. “I suppose I can't help but agree with that assessment.” 

The answer sent a shock through Hibiki's spine—his eyes finally turned upward to look at the casual calmness in Hazama's features. The other captained waved a hand dismissively before going on. 

“Not that you're bad! Quite the opposite! You're simply too talented for this man to know how to really utilize! He's abused your talents to make up for his own faults for how long now? Come, be honest with me,” Hazama said coaxingly. 

“I...I don't know...” 

“Push yourself a little. Surely you know, Captain Kohaku. He's had you doing desk work for him...cooking and cleaning up for him. For how long while your blade rusted and your skills were left to no use? What are you really now?” Hazama pressed, his tone almost soothing, but the flow of his language hard and immediate. 

It felt like a vice around Hibiki's skull. “A tool...” 

“If so then you'd serve no purpose confined to this room...or wherever else the Colonel might 'throw out' such a tool.” 

Hibiki's pulse pounded through his ears, vein and muscles all over winding up slowly—one stressed turn of the clock winding key in his back at a time—gears grinding and screaming under the pressure. A stilted sense of time and place kept him spinning and trapped together—body too heavy and tense to move just yet, but always on the verge of bursting regardless. His hands remained palm up in his lap—grasp too weak to do anything. A sinking feeling came next—distinct from the rest, but a sensation that led his mind astray. Hibiki Kohaku began to depart. 

Hazama stepped lightly off the desk and leaned over Hibiki—their faces closer now. One steady hand rested on Hibiki's shoulder nearer to his collar. Muscles cried out for movement, but nothing came so easily to him. Something about that hold gave him one single shred of calm. Nothing phased Hazama—like he'd seen it all already. It was a kind of assurance and ease that humans could only aspire to. A tranquility in a sea of illusions with no logic. The waves only stopped for that moment. 

“Captain...you don't have to abandon yourself to this. You're too good to simply be thrown out,” Hazama spoke, voice smooth to end with a charge. “A good tool has a right to sever a bond that misuses him.” 

Just like that, Hibiki clicked. Hazama gave him room again and released his grasp. Their eyes met for a few seconds. It struck him how inhuman the other captain's eyes were—a sharp yellow-gold that seemed to drive into his skin and dig deeper. Whatever Hazama was, he was something much closer to himself than anyone he could recall crossing. Hazama gave him space, a second of questioning—a gift from one useful object to another. 

“I hope you'll find me when you're done. You'll have to tell me how it feels to be cut loose,” Hazama offered after letting the silence hang. Finality spread from those words across the walls. That was it. 

Decision notched into place. Hibiki paced to his closet. Hazama slunk toward the doorway. 

“At that time then,” Hibiki answered firmly. Questions dropped away from him one by one as he shuffled through his belongings for what he would need next. 

Hazama smiled almost warmly—that ever-present off kilter aspect never leaving his face. “Of course, of course. Later then, Captain. I look forward to it.” With that the man seemed to become more of a shadow than anything human—slipping through the door and doorway and back out into the greater part of headquarters, or whatever else laid beyond those bounds. At this point it all bled together. 

Place and self only re-centered when Hibiki changed uniforms. The more secretarial garb was set aside for the more maneuverable outfit, one that worked better to hitching his blades at his back. Those too still seemed to fit him just fine. More than anything, that seemed to fit. 

Processes worked themselves back into play—mechanical easy things for Hibiki. He could approach these, he could change them. The fading sensations pounding at his chest were not so easily accessed. The idea of having some control should have felt like something—it should have left a bigger mark on him, but it felt blank. Almost peaceful. 

Night fell once more. 

No one came for him.

Windows were pushed open carefully and out onto them Hibiki made his way across sill to sill. One precise jump at a time he coursed toward his destination, heart rate flowing steadily, body almost relaxed. The tension that hours ago made him numb lingered on his skin like a dusting of paint—coloring his motion with a kind of direction he'd never felt. Cold night air against his face woke him, welcomed him across the length of the trek.

He stopped before the long and tall windows of the office. The curtains were closed, but lights flickering behind the cracks told him someone remained working within. Without hesitation he kicked into the middle of the window at the locking point—destroying that and only a minimal amount of the glass. It still shattered, but he could slip through easier still with the windows knocked open and the curtains flying out of the way. His boots hit the office floor almost silently—blades drawn in the same motion. The figure who had been at the desk scrambled to get up from it, one hand to the wall seeking out the large blade usually parked nearby. When Kagura recognized Hibiki he froze, his eyes wide—fear gripped tight. 

Hibiki strode over glass to pin him nearer to the wall, but Kagura stepped forward. He started to make his way around the desk to meet him. Nervousness soaked into his features, but something stayed sure and confident about him. Hibiki did not let himself unravel even as Kagura held a halting hand up between them.

“Hibiki...Stop. I want to talk.”

“I'm not interested,” Hibiki answered and swiped his blade. He felt the tip of his blade make contact with Kagura's hand as he recoiled too late—cutting open his palm deeply. The Colonel hissed and grasped at his wrist like it would help, his look wretched as he tried to find Hibiki's gaze. He didn't exactly look away from him, but his vision felt too hazy to assert. 

“I felt like...this was going to happen for some reason,” Kagura said, his tongue sharp against the roof of his mouth. Hibiki watched the way he hunched over with his new wound, the blood flooding down his forearm as it dribbled freely from the cut. 

“Then I'm sure you're prepared,” Hibiki spoke without realizing it. The words fell loose from his mouth, lips held ready for more. He made an encroaching step toward Kagura, the Colonel making one back towards the desk in response. He would be trapped soon.

“Don't do this. Hibiki, please...Listen, it's late, I know, but I count on you,” Kagura started again, a slight uncomfortable shake to his voice. Something desperate etched over his face, growing by the second. “I haven't listened to you...I should. I can now. It's gonna be okay...” 

Hibiki blinked. 

He swung his blade again. 

The edge of the blade made contact with Kagura's flesh again—slicing cleanly through the already injured arm with a spray of blood and a cry of pain that Kagura bit his lip through. His eyes danced with a wild light—disbelief and terror before he could choke it down. That he wasn't screaming already almost dented through the shell around Hibiki's person. 

“Hi-Hibiki...we can get through...whatever this is. I'm sorry...I'm—“

Kagura's speech was cut short as Hibiki lurched forward and cut deeper into him. He could hardly protect himself and his blade remained against the wall untouched. The Colonel split apart at the gut and chest—Hibiki's blades finely cutting through flesh as intended. Blood crisscrossed the office and now the desk as Kagura bumped back against it. His body sank slowly as his legs gave out, draining a trickle at a time, like sand in an hourglass. The moment seemed to last a hundred years. Briefly a look of a different sort of pain dug into his features. 

Sympathy? 

Hibiki stepped back out of the way, uniform more spattered than it had ever been. An empty sensation hung inside his body—hallowed out but standing on two legs. It was done. It was finally, finally done.

What remained of Kagura hit the floor face down, no other words making it out of him. Blood pooled over the carpet, steadily building up near Hibiki's shoes. He watched the process with an unfeeling gaze, eyes murky, sense of space and time completely gone. Someone would come find this soon. 

He reached into his pocket and crimson-specked gloves grasped the letters he'd taken from the offending officers. He set them on Kagura's desk like any other report he might have turned in. His fingers pressed hard into the page, creasing it into the surface of the desk. 

“This is my last report to you, Colonel Kagura,” he said, words even, logical, natural. “My apologies.” 

His eyes lingered on the corpse bleeding out on the office floor. He hadn't fought back. He could have made a reach for his blade, jumped back, attacked him in return at any point. He could have called for help or screamed when Hibiki sliced into him.

And yet Kagura did not. 

That final look he gave him spelled something.

Hibiki pushed against it. 

He couldn't be held down by a dead man. 

He couldn't be held down by any man. 

He remained, cut free.


End file.
